18 Sep


Petrichor, the air I breathe,
scent of earth after a rain;
this fragrance of swallow,
to release each breath,
and taste the flesh of air.

Awash in solemn breeze,
this air of virgin earth;
sentient wind of my alive,
that every breath be reborn
as my morals of existence.

Virgin core of ethereal plain,
the air about me, my solace;
to the horizon, ceaseless sky,
I give my life in its urgency
to fellate the breath of rain.

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Posted by on September 18, 2015 in My Poetry



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